bro i read nothing in my life

no longer writing in the third person

Imprint, memory, impact, representation, impression

something religious, a kind of complex,

it will get lighter

One of the birds shoots out of the tree.

She closes the window. I wasn't paying attention anyway, I'm getting cold, and the birds are nowhere to be seen. I go inside.

It Will Get Lighter

I wonder if the birds knew I was watching?

I wonder if she knew I was down there listening? I wonder if she would've said something more true, more personal, more raw, more heartfelt, more harsh, more seductive, more freeing, more exposing, more risky, more romantic, more rude, more honest, more anything, if there hadn't been an audience.

Their voices are saying they haven't and shouldn't fuck but want to so bad, or have fucked and can't again but want to so bad, or something like that. Would this be easier if they were birds? Incel kind of question... I'm not following the conversation, but I'm still listening. He's talking in this slightly begging way. It's a way of talking that asks for pity, like he's already tried appealing to every other one of her sensibilities. Incel kind of observation... Maybe he just talks like that, in some upspeak derivative. Haha unless?

in a post. I want to be remembered

Above and behind a window opens and a cigarette hangs out.

It's

dusk

"Put a blanket."

there's probably something in that, but I don't feel like thinking about it too much yet.

Windrush Art Kid Oligarch

so at the end

i have read not even 1 book

i got bored though because i knew all of the different arrangements of it. i probably needed to stick at it longer to get it dense enough to feel navigable in a way that was engaging to me

send your tumblr

division of reality is straying away from it

but really the thing should be autonomous

i struggle with building a personal technical architecture for storing media, both curation and creation. instead i bookmark everything

or never left

we can only engage in such a way

its good